


Behold I Bring You Tidings of Great Joy

by teand



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Public Sex, episode tag (ish)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-22
Updated: 2008-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teand/pseuds/teand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between episodes 401 and 402 in a slightly alternative universe in a much more logical time to use the word rehymenate if we allow the whole Sam/Dean thing which, obviously, we do so slight spoilers for 401.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behold I Bring You Tidings of Great Joy

What do you know, a fic not only inspired by last week's episode but Kripke'd by it simultaniously.

Raise your hands everyone who thought I'd leave that whole rehymenated thing alone.

In his own defense, he'd just had his ass hauled out of Hell and he had other things on his mind when he took that leak by the side of the road. And then he and Bobby'd hit the road looking for Sam and when a guy's standing at a rest stop urinal next to a trucker with 'Grade A Prime Beef' tattooed on his arm, he doesn't look down.

For a couple of reasons.

Dean had been 'round the block enough times to know it could go either way.

And _then_ there'd been the reunion with Sam and a whole shitload of broken glass and God sticking his oar in and sending along an angel who did not, by the way, say _Fear not._ as advertised. Or maybe they just said that shit to shepherds.

Anyway, it wasn't like he'd had time to notice until they stopped by the side of the road to drain the lizard while driving to Bobby's place.

At first he thought it was a trick of the light. Or lack of light.

He'd noticed the complete absence of scarring back at that first gas station; guy gets ripped apart by hellhounds, he's going to check the merchandice. No new scars, no old scars, tattoo back in one piece. And sure, he maybe wondered if he'd gotten his tonsils back since things seemed to have been restored to factory settings but…

"Dean? You okay?"

"I uh…" Unable to look away, he put out his free hand to steady himself against the car. At a time like this, a guy needed the reassurance of the one completely unchanging constant in his life. "There's… I mean, it's…"

He heard Sam zip up. Felt a tentative touch on his elbow. "What is it?"

"I can't…"

"Dean, you're starting to scare me."

"When that fucking angel hauled me out of hell…" Another quick look, just to be sure. "…bastard put my foreskin back!"

The silence that followed was so complete even the insects stopped doing whatever it was insects did to make noise in the middle of the night by the side of the road in North Dakota.

Then Sam made a sound Dean couldn't identify and that jerked his attention up to his brother's face. Sam's lips were pressed into a thin line and a muscle jumped in his jaw.

"Dude, are you laughing at me?"

Sam dropped his gaze down to the body part in question, still cradled protectively in Dean's right hand, and lost it completely.

After a few minutes, as three cars and a transport passed on the other side of the Impala, Dean gave some serious thought to getting back in the car and driving away without Sir Laughsalot slapping his knees there.

Finally he growled, "It's not funny, Sam!"

Gasping for breath, Sam waved a hand in his general direction. "Sorry."

"Yeah, and the apology'd be more effective if you weren't still snickering."

"You're right. And I am sorry." Wiping streaming eyes with the back of his hand, Sam straightened and managed to achieve a relative calm. "I can see why you'd be upset. I'm just not sure I understand why it took you so long to notice. Doesn't it feel different?"

"Should it?" Eyes wide, Dean looked down. Gave it an exploratory shake. "Maybe heavier?"

"I doubt there's enough tissue there to change the weight."

"Then what the hell do you mean, does it feel different?"

Sam shrugged. "Isn't it supposed to make things more sensitive?"

"To what?" When Sam rolled his eyes, Dean actually felt himself blush. Fucking angel. More of his handiwork no doubt. "Oh. Right."

In the light thrown by a passing minivan, Dean watched Sam's smile twist into something he didn't quite recognize. And that wasn't possible. Sam didn't have an expression Dean wasn't intimately acquainted with.

Except, well, no time at all for him but four months for Sam so maybe intimately meant something else now.

Initial hug aside, they'd barely touched since Dean had gotten back. Partly because Sam'd had a girl there, right there, in her underwear so yeah, _go Sammy!_ but no mistaking how that meant he'd started to move on. And, partly, because Bobby'd been with them.

 _"Hey Bobby, you want to take a hike so I can bone my brother?"_ would've gotten him another face full of holy water. Or an ass full of rock salt, depending on what was closest to hand. And maybe he'd have deserved it too because maybe what four months in Hell was supposed to teach him was that Sam could manage fine without him.

Then a pickup passed -- high beams on, the son of a bitch -- and there was suddenly enough light to recognize…

…want.

Need.

Maybe those four months hadn't changed Sam, maybe Sam thought those four months had changed him. Although, seriously, a guy lusting after his little brother? That seemed right up Hell's alley. Not something they'd rip out. But maybe Sam, applying that logic, thought the lust was all that was left and that had never been what they were about.

Okay.

Fine.

It wasn't ever _all_ they were about.

Kind of funny the ol' hand of God had left it alone though -- removed his scars, fixed his tat, replaced his fucking foreskin, but left the basic package alone. He was still him. Still felt like him. Still thought like him. Still wanted Sam.

Did that mean God approved? Or, in the greater scheme of things, like Heaven and Hell throwing down the gloves in the biggest grudge match since Triple H met Jeff Hardy, heading for fire, brimstone, and the ultimate return of disco, did it mean that God didn't give a flying fuck about where the Winchester brothers dipped their wicks as long as they got on with the whole saving the world and not becoming the anti-Christ thing?

Something to think about. Later. Because right now, in the light of a passing Toyota, Dean could see the blast doors going down and in another minute Sam was going to be back to that no touching place in his head.

"So uh, you want to take it for a test drive?"

"Do I what?"

Dean glanced down. Didn't look like his anymore and damn, he could really use some reassurance about _that_ right now. And maybe Hell -- or Castiel -- had fucked him up somehow because maybe Sam _wanted_ to get back on the road and _needed_ to get to Bobby's and…

"Dean?"

"Just thought you might want to do a little research." Not his best attempt at laughing it off. "Check out just what exactly more sensitive mea… OW!"

The door handle jammed him in the ass as Sam slammed him back against the car and dropped to his knees all in one motion. And that had to hurt because they were standing on gravel but Sam never even paused just buried his face in Dean's crotch and inhaled like he hadn't taken a breath in four months. Dean could literally feel two little ovals of skin being tugged up against Sam's nostrils.

Then the exhale surrounded him in hot, moist air and blood rushed south so fast his knees threatened to buckle.

Strong hands closed around his wrists and pressed his palms flat against the car.

"Sammy…" He had no idea of what he was going to say or if he'd _had_ anything to say so he settled for letting his head fall forward so he could watch himself harden inside the circle of Sam's fingers.

Damn. The foreskin slid back. "Kind of like a retractable roof." It felt… well, it didn't feel _bad_ that was for damned sure. Then Sam stuck his tongue out and licked and…

"FUCK!" His hips bucked forward and his head slammed back into the roof of the car. A passing transport hit the air horn.

"I'd say you're definitely more sensitive there."

Fucker wasn't looking up, kept his eyes locked on the prize, but Dean knew he was smiling. "You talking to my dick, Sammy?"

"Sometimes it's the only way to have an intelligent conversation with you."

And Dean had a comeback for that, he really did, but right then Sam licked his lips and slid Dean's entire length into his mouth and Dean lost the ability to form words. He hardened the rest of the way against Sam's tongue and it got wet and messy and amazing and maybe it was the foreskin and maybe it was four months spent in Hell and maybe it was just the thing that Sam did where he sucked like he was trying to pull a potato through a tailpipe but Dean came so hard he almost blacked out.

He started to slide but then Sam was there and his mouth was hot and sticky against Dean's and, as far as he could tell, he tasted the same -- kind of like one of those big soft pretzels with the slightly bitter aftertaste. He'd barely managed to regain enough motor function to rub the heel of his hand against Sam's jeans when he felt him shudder and go limp in his arms.

He thought about making a crack because there was nothing like knowing Sammy'd be doing the rest of the drive to Bobby's with a load of spunk in his pants to bring out the funny but maybe Sam's face was damp where it pressed in hard against the side of his neck and maybe the dust thrown up from the passing traffic made his own eyes itch.

Maybe the feel of Sam's heart beating in time with his finally convinced him he was home.

Then another trucker hit his air horn and Sam pulled back.

"It's like the fuckers have never seen a guy celebrate the return of his foreskin before," Dean muttered, tucking himself away.

They were on the road again when the obvious occurred. In his own defense, he'd had other things on his mind.

"What?"

He turned just far enough to see Sam staring at him. "What what?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "You've got your _I can't believe I didn't think of that before_ face on."

He had an _I can't believe I didn't think of that before_ face?

"Dean?"

Right. "Okay, if I've got my foreskin back…"

"If?"

"…then what else did I get back?" He smirked but Sam seemed a little slow on the uptake. "Dude, ass cherry! My ass has been rehymenated!" He raised a hand as Sam opened his mouth. "Yeah, I know, no such thing but think about it -- my ass is untouched virgin terri… Sam!"

Only mad skills behind the wheel kept them from going off the road into the ditch and in spite of his best attempts, the Impala fishtailed on the gravel shoulder before he could bring her to a stop.

He had no idea the two of them could even fit in the backseat in that position.

And if Bobby happened to notice that he was walking funny…

"Jesus fucking Christ Sammy, did that thing get bigger while I was gone!?"

…he was definitely going to say it was all part of God's plan.

\--end--


End file.
